


Dabbling With Drabbles

by VivatDraco



Category: Discworld - Pratchett, Doctor Who
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-06-18
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivatDraco/pseuds/VivatDraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100 word drabbles and otherwise too-short-to-post-alone snippets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tracing the Outline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "chalk" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

The Tower of Art was not a popular spot for suicides. It was too high for any audience to get a good view until the last hundred feet, and besides, there was a lot of time to think on the way down.

Nevertheless, every now and then someone took the 800 foot plunge.

Sergeant Detritus laboriously dragged the chalk along the ground.  
"Missed a bit Sarge," said Nobby. He pointed several feet away, in several spots. "'E splashed."  
Detritus looked at the stub of chalk in his huge hand and then the suicide scene. "We ain't gonna have enough chalk."


	2. She's Obviously Female

Friend or not, it was hard not to feel a little bit jealous of sergeant Angua.

She wore sensible sturdy boots, the sort you could run down alleys in without turning an ankle. You barely ever saw her in a skirt, a fact most men would lament where it not for the fact her legs were pretty good to look at even when encased in hard-wearing leather breeches. A hint of mascara was the most makeup she wore on duty.

But even when dressing and acting male she was, undeniably, female.

Cheery would give anything for that kind of freedom.


	3. Real Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fits into Men At Arms, after the *glink*. I was never sure if Angua had actually told him she was a werewolf and he just wasn't prepared for the reality or if she hadn't said anything. Gaspode's "you could have hinted it's that time of the month" always made me favour the former.

"By the way," said Angua, "There's something you ought to know."  
"Mm?" Carrot opened an eye.  
"You know what I said earlier? About why it was us three?"  
"Troll, dwarf, woman. Yes?"  
"Well… I'm not a woman."  
"Erm. I'm no expert but you seemed to fulfil the… usual requirements," said Carrot, blushing.  
"I meant that I'm not a _human_ female. I'm a werewolf."  
"Oh." That seemed to be all there was to say. "You could have told me earlier."  
"Yes, well, now you know…" She yawned and curled up beside him before continuing, "That I can be a real _bitch_."


	4. Parking Offenses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossover with Doctor Who (Ten, with Martha).

Sergeant Littlebottom returned her attention to the exuberant man stood before her. He was dressed strangely and accompanied by a dark girl who had been staring at her with disbelief the whole time. She was aware of a whispered conversation.

"That… dwarf's wearing lipstick!"  
"So?"  
"With a beard?"  
"Weeell, takes all kinds to make the universe doesn't it?"  
"Yeah, but with a _beard_? And what about all those rocks walking around?"

Obviously they were new to the city, and would probably not last long with language like that.  
"Ok, let's try this again," she said. "Your _what_ has been clamped?"


	5. Good Cop, Bad Cop

Angua was vaguely aware that with someone like Carrot around, you also needed the people like Vimes and, if she was being honest, her as well, to be around too.

His inherent charisma and good natured optimism towards the world in general had to be anchored down by a world weary cynic, lest it float off dragging the rest of the world with it, whether it liked it or not.

It was like the old 'Good cop, bad cop' thing; a matter of balance.

But the trouble with Carrot was that she was never _entirely_ certain which one he was.


	6. Cereal Killer

Vimes found Angua in the canteen, about to fall asleep in her breakfast.  
"Morning sergeant," he said. "When you're done go and get some re- What _is_ that you're eating?"  
Angua blinked at him. "I think it's called 'serial'."  
"Looks like soggy cardboard."  
"Tastes like soggy cardboard, sir. With sugar. It was the only thing around that wasn't swimming in lard."  
"Oh. Why's it called serial?"  
"Not sure. Maybe because eating a bowl of it makes you want to go and kill lots of people?"  
The thought of a werewolf made homicidal by her breakfast was not a good one. He patted her on the shoulder.  
"Stick to fruit."


	7. Open Minded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set just prior to Monstrous Regiment, on the way to Borogravia.

A coach, somewhere between Ankh-Morpork and Borogravia…

Vimes put down the folder and rubbed his eyes. It was a _mess_. There wasn't a single country in the area that Borogravia hadn't been at war with at some point in the last century. It was madness. And _he_ was meant to stroll in and sort things out. Oh _yes_.  
He looked across at sergeant Angua, the only other occupant of the coach. Buggy was out stretching his hawk's le- wings and Reg had gone up top because he knew that, while it usually wasn't a problem, in such an enclosed space his smell made Angua uncomfortable.  
Angua had abandoned her copy of the mission notes some time ago. Vimes really couldn't blame her, it was dry and rather aggravating reading. She was now curled up on the seat, engrossed in a book. Vimes squinted at the cover, trying to see what she was reading.  
"Are you reading a _romance_, sergeant?" he asked, surprised. He hadn't thought her the mushy type. She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye.  
"No." Pause. "Maybe a little bit," she admitted. Vimes gave her a look of his own.  
"It's something Cheery forced on me just as we were leaving."  
"_Dwarf_ romance?"  
"Apparently so sir."  
Vimes groped for an appropriate expression, but couldn't find one.  
"It's surprisingly good actually," said Angua, her own expression one of disbelief at her own words. "Oh the writing could be better, this reads like a saga or opera a lot of the time, but the story's not too bad."  
"But… dwarf romance? Isn't half of it just figuring out which one of you is the girl?"  
"Mm. But, see, that's the twist here. About a third of the way through the book Armstrangler finds a case of makeup in Gritshins's room and thinks he's cheating on her, but when she confronts him about it, it turns out they're _both_ girls! So they part ways and some time later Armstrangler is going to get married to another dwarf who she's _sure_ is male, but realises she still has feelings for Gritshins. Armstrangler runs away from the wedding and shacks up with Gritshins again and it all gets a bit… er… well, I know now why it was written in Morporkian. I don't think Dwarvish _has_ words for some of the things they've been doing."  
Vimes stared for a moment. "You mean…?" he didn't dare finish the sentence for fear of what it had to contain.  
"Quite open minded, our new dwarf women," said Angua brightly.  
Vimes sat in silence again. "Good grief," he managed eventually.  
He picked up the mission notes again. He needed something to banish the mental images.


	8. Best Left Buried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "Bloody Stupid Johnson" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

Verence had discovered something in the castle gardens. It had been covered in ivy, half buried in the ground and had the look of something that had been very firmly forgotten.  
He'd had it excavated and cleaned up and was now trying to figure out what it was actually for. It was turning out to be quite a puzzle.

"Look here, it's got a name on this plate," said Magrat. "B…S… Johnson," she read out.

Everyone took a cautious step back.

"Ah." Pause. "Er. Shaun?" called Verence, eyeing the Johnson creation.  
"Yessir?"  
"Just bury this thing again would you? Carefully."


	9. Glorious Spam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "Clacks" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

Constable Visit came down the stairs and added another stack of clacks messages to the piles.

"Sorry sir, I don't know where they're all coming from," he said.

"Hm. We getting any reports through all this…" Vimes waved a hand at the slips of paper.

"Commercial Advertising Notices and News Enforcedly Delivered Making Everyone Annoyed and Tetchy, sir," supplied Carrot.

Vimes fixed the captain with a blank stare.

"That's what these things are being called, sir. Lots of legitimate messages are getting lost among them. They're becoming quite a problem."

A pile slid over, enveloping the desk in paper.

"Clearly."


	10. The Sausage Shakedown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "Gaspode" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

“No,” said Gaspode.  
“I hadn’t said anything yet,” said Carrot, looking hurt.  
“I know how this goes, all right? There’s the polite enough opening, some innocent banter, then comes the unreasonable request followed by the freats and bribery.”  
“I-”  
“An’ I’m telling you _I ain’t interested_. ”  
“But-“  
“So you’ll just have to make do wivout ole’ Gaspode this time.”

There was a moment of silence.  
“There’s a pound of Uberwaldean sausage in it for you.”  
Gaspode gave this some thought.  
“Oh, all right then,” he muttered, hating himself.

Pride was all very well, but a sausage was a sausage.


	11. Either Or

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "choices, choices..." challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

It was all about choices.

Some had been quite simple. Kill or be killed. Run or fight. Clothes or inconvenient bouncing. Hate the bastard or… really hate him.  
Some were harder. Be a woman or be a wolf. Morality, or the simplicity of the predator. Chickens or the dark path back to the bad old days.  
Some were proving impossible. Stay or go. Love him or leave him. When the question comes, yes or no.

You had to hope that you made the right ones.

It occurred to Angua that choices were the easy part. Living with them was hard.


	12. Not to mention cupping and bleeding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "leeches" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

Doctor Lawn was encountering difficulty with the hospital’s newest employee.

“Now see here, Igor, you can’t prescribe an organ transplant for a cold,” he tried to explain.  
“But it did the trick thur, never theen a finer pair of lungth and the nothe wath quite an improthement.”  
“A cold is hardly serious enough to merit surgery. And there’s nothing to stop her getting another one.”  
“Not to worry thur, I’ve got plenty more notheth.”

It was becoming clear that Igoring and his own brand of physic were somewhat at odds.  
At least they were in full agreement about the leeches.


	13. They Don't Mind Putting The Boot In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "The things they learned" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

"I do think it's a little unfair," said Carrot.  
"What is?" asked Vimes. They were watching a training session with the latest batch of recruits.  
"Having Angua teach this session."  
"Oh, I don't know..."

A recruit had evidently chosen that moment to say something unwise about fighting girls. He crumpled to the ground, a whimpering heap. There was some sympathetic wincing, but no more smart comments.

Vimes turned and went back inside, satisfied.

"It's something they all have to learn sooner or later. Girls are naturally dirty fighters," said Vimes. "I'll send Igor out with some ice for the lad."


	14. Dead Men's Pointy Boots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "boots" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ

An expedition into the deeper, darker sections of the UU Library was a great and dangerous undertaking.

The search when you failed to return within a week was usually an even bigger one.

"Aha, better call off the search party, Chair. I rather think we've found him," said Ridcully. The Chair of Indefinite Studies sent up a flare from his staff and the other wizards were soon clustered around.

They clustered a little closer when they saw exactly what had been found.

In the middle of the aisle, between the rustling shelves, stood a pair of boots.

They were smoking.


	15. 'Course, we wouldn't have even tried if it hadn't fallen over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "Running Screaming at People While Drunk and Trying to Cut Their Knees off (charge no. 23)" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

Colon stared at the prisoner. He wasn’t sure which question to ask first.  
“What _exactly_ had it done wrong?” he asked, finally.  
“We arrested it on a twenny-free, sarge.”  
“A twenty-three?”  
”Yeah.”  
He stared some more.  
The constable tried to fill the silence.  
“I know it ent quite right, but we don’t ‘ave a number for Jumpin’ In A Barrel Of Beer then Runnin’ Around, Kickin’ People Wiv Ten Legs At A Time, Swallowin’ Whole Five Of The Buggers Too Stunned To Get Up an’ then Fallin’ Over Itself.”

In the cell, the Luggage opened its lid and grinned, drunkenly.


	16. Reasonable, As Always

“But Sally's a black ribboner,” said Carrot, evenly.  
“So?” countered Angua.  
“And you're a vegetarian. Most of the time.”  
“_And?_”  
“Well, neither of you are exactly sticking to what vampires or werewolves are supposed to be.”

Angua scowled, knowing she was losing this argument.

“If she can give up drinking blood and you can give up tearing out throats, I don't see why the two of you can't get past your species predisposition to dislike each other. Surely it should be a relatively easy thing?”

“I hate when you get reasonable on me.”


	17. They'd probably be matching shades

Angua hated underwear shopping, not least because Sally had invited herself along and kept offering her advice. Vampires were, after all, experts on lingerie, at least when it was silk, underwired and probably a nightdress.

“Why does this take you so long?”  
“It’s hard to find something practical to undo with paws. You can go if you’re bored,” added Angua, hopefully.  
“Frivolously impractical is much more fun,” replied Sally, grinning and holding up something red and lacy. “Carrot would appreciate it.”  
“He’d be too embarrassed to look.”

But it was a hard choice. Carrot’s reaction _would_ be amusing to watch.


	18. Changing History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "legends" challenge at the discworld100 community on LJ.

It was strange how history could change, contemplated Vimes, as he walked around the stone kings, with his son in his arms.

He'd seen it happen before. The murderer of a king became the man who did what needed to be done, when no-one else dared. There was even a statue.  
Now the slayer of trolls became a peace maker. The kings themselves were the statue in honour of a peace that should have been made centuries ago.

The legend was a lie and a new one grew up around the truth.

No doubt it would change again, in time.


	19. Forever

"Sally and Cheery think you're going to propose," said Angua, apprehension written across her face.

"I can't say I haven't thought about it," said Carrot. "But, well, then I thought some more and it seemed to me that if there were ever a sure-fire way to have you miles out of the city by morning, asking you... _that_ question would be it."  
"You're probably right," admitted Angua.  
"So I'm not going to ask," he continued. "I love you. That's all I need to know."

Angua watched his sincere expression.

And knew she'd stay forever.


	20. Innuendo, with a capital IN YOU

"There's a carrot in my locker."  
"So there is. That's quite a big one."  
Angua paused in thought for a moment, face immobile. Then, with strained smile and forced brightness she said "Yes. Yes, it is."  
"In fact I think that's the biggest I've ever seen."  
Oh Gods. He had to know what he was saying, didn't he? No one could say so exactly the wrong thing every time without knowing. Right? _Right?_  
"It certainly is very... large. And somewhat gleaming." She picked it up and it slipped through her fingers. "It's been _oiled_."

Somewhere a vampire was sniggering. She wasn't in the locker room, she wasn't even in the Watch House, Angua would have smelt her presence, but she _knew_ that wherever she was, Salacia von Humpeding was grinning. She could practically feel it.  
Angua had rather thought she was past the stage of finding... _amusing_ items in her locker.

Apparently not.


	21. Runs in the family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Runs In The Family" by Amanda Palmer, as part of a musical meme that I never finished.

There was not much than Angua was afraid of. The ability to tear throats out with ease did that to a person. She walked in dark alleys without fear. Potential muggers had learnt that things, horrible, painful things that resulted in permanent scarring happened to those who thought she looked an easy target.

But she _was_ afraid.

It wasn't any outside influence she feared.

Her father was more wolf than anything else these days. And even that wasn't as bad as what her brother had become; everything that was worst and base in both human and wolf that combined to make something mad and evil and completely, utterly without conscience.

Angua was terrified that one day, _that_ would be her.

She couldn't deny the possibility. It ran in the family.


	22. Howl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Howl" by Florence + The Machine, as part of a musical meme that I never finished.

Angua liked to think that being with Carrot was what kept her human, made it all worthwhile.

But there were moments when his skin was on hers, his breath hot on her neck and hers on his, her nails raking down his back, when her senses were ablaze and feeling was everything, moments when all she wanted to do was howl and let go of her tightly wound control.

But she knew she could never let go. Not completely, and not in front of him.

The truth was that, more often than not, Carrot made it _hard_ to be human.


End file.
